The Sweetest Poison
by LightofaThousandSuns
Summary: Valentine's Day rolls around after the Almost-Apocalypse, and the duo proceed to have a long talk of love, feelings, and annoyances while Crowley meddles and has his own fun. But can they both keep denying feelings that have always existed? CrowleyxAzi.


A/N: So, normally, I don't do really anything for Valentine's Day. I've grown to…dislike the holiday intensely.

But, thankfully, I got inspired by an idea (from my father, no less xD) and lo and behold, this came forth. My first jump into this lovely fandom, for a book that I love so passionately, it's…ineffable (Lulz xD).

So enjoy. It's filled with smut, humor (some drunken humor as well; hey, it's Crowley. What'd you expect? XD), and candy hearts with lewd sayings.

Now none of that should surprise you, haha. And yes, there's footnotes They're numbered, and at the end. ;D

Disclaimer: I only own this story; Good Omens? Pshaw, it is too awesome to be owned by me. It belongs to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.

Inspired by the song: "Love Found Me", by DecembeRadio, "My World" by Sr-71…and also by "Touch", by Clay Aiken….which yes, is quoted at the start of the story. (Face-palm inserted here, please).

Yeah. Aiken needs to REALLY get out of my head XD

* * *

_Angel, Heaven starts here tonight in your arms  
while I drown in your body  
get lost in your charms  
Now that you're here  
Angel, don't go  
Let's keep the mood nice and slow_

_All I want is your touch  
All I want is your Heaven right here by my side…_

_"Touch", by Clay Aiken_

_

* * *

  
_

Described as one of the major emotions of the world, it was no surprise to any being that a holiday had been 'created' out of it; one of those said beings was Aziraphale, and of course, encouraging love, he could not help but encourage the winter holiday for the past decades on this planet. Not to mention, the entire fact that it was based off a _Saint_; that alone made the holiday qualified for Heavenly praise and nods of approval.

The ethereal blonde, though, had never been one for actually _celebrating_ the holiday in particular, at least in an all-out amount. Sometimes he would put up a heart or two, but not much more, mainly for the fact that he really had no specific 'lover', and in all truth, Crowley, the only true companion of any sort that he had, had only spent the holiday with him twice in all the times they had been upon the Earth. The demon…well, he never hid his disgust of the holiday, the disgust existing and blooming for a plethora of reasons. Add to that the fact that sometimes the serpent got commendations on this holiday for doing Who knows what, with mysterious persons Crowley never revealed the identity of (1), he had great reasons not to spend it with the angel; and those two days that they had been together were purely accidental, and the alcohol that the duo had consumed had warped their minds so much, they had forgotten what day it was.

So it was of great surprise to Aziraphale to hear the shop's bell jingle in the early afternoon air, and to see the dark-haired demon walk through the entrance casually; but his cocky grin faded to a confused cringe when hidden eyes gazed upon a pudgy angel actually fixing up Valentine's decorations in the bookshop, heavenly hands working upon a banner of attached red and pink hearts, strong feet standing on a ladder fairly high up.

"…Decorations, angel? And here I just thought your wardrobe could be tacky…"

Aziraphale frowned, "You never had a holiday spirit, Crowley, but there is no reason to try to ruin mine."

"Ruin? I would think you would thank me. I'm giving you advice on how _not_ to look gaudy and…and, well…not very book-shop-ish."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he descended the ladder, "And this is from the demon who loves to show off? Do you think, my dear, that I have forgotten how…flashy, you are?"

Crowley snorted, leaning against the front of the counter, "Touché; and no, of course not. But, I'm just making a statement, Aziraphale. Your…interesting taste seems to just ooze from your clothes, to your décor, to your decorations-"

"Crowley…"

"Fine, fine." Hands went up in an innocent gesture, "Can't blame a demon for observing, can ya?"

"No, but an angel can ask why a demon is here, and _why _he is observing," The blonde countered, steady hands and a sharp mind going back to organizing ancient and glorious tomes, now that the decorating was completed, "Especially since said demon despises this day. And never fails to remind said angel."

The serpent shrugged, "Well, I was in the neighborhood, really. Figured I should stop by. I was just going to pop in and say hello, invite you out, perhaps, but THEN," A dramatic pause, "I saw how _lovely_ you had made the shop from the outside window."

"Your sarcasm was never an attractive quality, my dear."

Crowley snorted, "Angel, for once, I hope you take my sarcasm seriously. Your usually-pleasuring bookstore looks like Cupid threw up and had diarrhea in it all at once; either that, or one of those bloody American convenience stores had diarrhea and-"

"Alright, point taken; no need to carry on the gruesome and gratuitous metaphor." Aziraphale's grimace was laughable, and the poor, despondent angel gripped one of his favorite books lovingly to his chest, as if it was an impenetrable shield from the disgusting words the serpent spewed upon him, "And if you want my honest opinion-"

"You have another type?"

"…"

"…Eh. Okay, fine, shutting up now. Just get on with what you were saying and stop glaring."

Aziraphale huffed, "Thank you. As I was saying, if you want my honest opinion, I think it is not too bad, really."

If the angel's expression from mere moments before would have caused a handful of chuckles, Crowley's follow-up would have caused a riotous roar; the demon looked as if he had never been told something this ridiculous since…since…well, since at least the "Apoca-oops-nevermind", which has occurred just a few months before. There was a slight twitch in light pink lips, a dark brow furrowed in dire confusion.

"Not…not too _bad_? Aziraphale, you…you've got banners of hearts, hanging little angels!" The entity did not hesitate one bit to include dramatic hand motions, "And…Ew, lace? Frills? Isn't this a little too much?"

The other shrugged as the dark-haired one looked as if he would vomit, "Crowley, I do not even recall celebrating the holiday like so. Is it such a crime to indulge myself in this way? Just once? And don't you say one word about this being Gluttony, I could see the word forming on your lips." Running a hand through his hair, Aziraphale continued, "Besides. After all that has occurred with the Boy, I would hope you would give me some leniency with how I act. We could have…"

"Are you going to get all sappy, 'Zira?"

The angel frowned, "Fine, fine. But you know perfectly well what I mean. Besides, this holiday, it is-"

"Nauseous?"

"…You just love interrupting my statements, don't you?"

Crowley's grin was malicious as he chuckled, "Maybe. Oh, and look; you even went out of your way and put _candy_ out? For what? To sweeten your customers into leaving? Or to give them compensation for being turned down?" Serpentine eyes behind smoked glasses glimmered, Aziraphale could nearly see that they were, but the demon's smile gave it completely away.

"For both, really. But they are very fondly thought of across the pond, and so I figured, why not. Plus, I do not mind the-HEY!"

Though the blonde angel expected (2) his companion to dip his sometimes-claw-containing-hand into the small jar of candy hearts, each a different color of rainbow, with tiny little letters dancing about them, spelling out sweet nothings, it was quite a shock when the demon pulled out a handful of them, studying them, tongue flicking out in curiosity.

"Heh. Actually, I've heard of these things. But I always hate the sayings."

"Of course you would. They deal with love."

Crowley shook his head, "It's not just that. It's just…they're so uncreative. Clichéd. Cheesy. Look, here's one."

A strong hand held out a heart with the pink words, 'My Baby' written on them so Aziraphale could view the piece of damning evidence against the atrocity that was the existence of these candies.

"Well, yes. But human minds are like that, my dear. They have always been saying the same classic lines for-" Aziraphale cut himself off as blue eyes widened extraordinarily, staring at the little heart as the words morphed, as letters shuffled and changed, and once they were finished, he could do nothing but glare at the demon before him.

"Was that really necessary?"

"I think so. 'My Bitch' suits the human mind a lot better, don't you think?" With a sigh, Crowley popped the candy into his mouth, and instantly puckered at the taste. "Yeck. These taste like…like…"

"Chalk? Yes, I know." Beginning to feel he was wasting precious moments chit-chatting, the angel went back to sorting some of his books, climbing onto another ladder on the far wall, a few old Bibles, bestiaries, and first edition novels in his plump hands, "But the mortal tongue seems to savor the taste, so I provide them."

"Well, this just encourages me even more." With an inhuman motion, a wave of his hand, the tall dish spilled over, every single heart spilling onto the counter, not one raining onto the floor. Each piece of candy was turned up, words falling onto sun-hued eyes, "Hmm…now where to start…?"

"May I ask-"

"No, you may not. And I'll put them all back, once I'm done with them."

The angel groaned from above his head, and Crowley could not help but grin; he loved picking on Aziraphale. Even after all these thousands of years, it was still such a delicious and savory treat to get a rise out of him.

"Hmm…" The snake held up a small heart, grinning, "'Love You'; oh, that's an easy one." Another swish of a hand-motion, and Love turned to Hate.

Aziraphale continued to hear light murmurs of dark glee, as Crowley appreciated his own genius. Little words and sayings flying about, changing, creating new phrases of gruesome debauchery, of lust, not love, and of hate and despair; the whole purpose of the sweets was changing into something far more sinister, but the angel only internally sighed and groaned; this was just how his-yes, he could say it-friend was. The demon utterly despised this day of the year, finding it a fallacy, a vengeful lie that even Hell had not had too much part it.

And the other male entity was deeply enjoying this game of changing; for in fact, Crowley knew, deep down in his darkened, soot-black soul, that this, these sayings, his sayings, were what the mortals, were what any thing was truly feeling.

'UR Hot' changed to 'UR Ugly', and that was followed by 'First Kiss' becoming 'No Kiss'. The midnight-locked one let out a hiss of delight, oh, this really was more enjoyable than he thought it would be. And though Aziraphale did glare at him every few seconds (3), he kept up this silly little game-it was quite fun, and he had not done something mildly, stupidly funny in ages. Besides, he had been stressed ever since, well…no, he did not want to go there. Let loose for a while, yes?

"So, I want your opinion. Should I change 'Crazy 4 U' to 'Crazy For Death' or 'Crazy for Prick'?"

"How about you stop, now? And clean up the mess."

"How about I just keep doing this? C'mon. Think of it as…as just a little slide on our Arrangement. You can fix them all again later?"

"Somehow, I doubt that you will let me do such a thing, my dear." The blonde replied, his sorting done, while climbing down from the heights of the ladder.

"Maybe, maybe not. We'll see. Ooh, 'Puppy Love'. How about 'Snake Love'?" He could not help the wiggle of his eyebrows; another sight he clearly enjoyed: Aziraphale's pout when he made an inappropriate comment (4), mainly concerning something of a provocative nature.

"How about True Love?" The Heavenly one replied calmly, his arms crossed as he stood on the other side of the counter.

"How about no, to that idea? 'Snake Love' it is; no one will get it, though."

"Yes, but that fact that _I_ get it should satisfy your disgusting ideas well enough, dear."

The serpent just rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh, "Moving on, 'True Love'…let's go with 'True Lust'."

"That, Crowley, does not seem as creative as the other ones." Aziraphale commented, finding himself, sickeningly of course, enjoying this little banter-over candies-becoming-demonically-enchanted incident, and he conjured up a steaming cup of cocoa, to bring his mood up to an even greater level.

"Doesn't have to be. All that matters is that it's true. Really, Angel, all of these changes that I'm making? They're all true. Heaven just doesn't see it. Or, for the matter, _you_ don't see it."

"Or you just wish to see it where it does not exist." The lighter one countered.

"See it where it doesn't exist? Aziraphale, not only can I not love, but I don't _believe_ in love. Have you taken a look at these humans? This world?" Crowley turned toward the shop window, outstretching an arm, "Face it. When was the last time you saw a genuine person in this city do an act of romance? Of love?"

"My dear, this whole city is abuzz with love today. Hence the holiday."

"How about any day though, other than today? And this day is not about love. It's about…It's just not. You're an angel, and you're supposed to support this sort of thing, yeah, but even I can see that this day has turned into nothing but a marketing ploy, especially in the big cities."

Aziraphale frowned, "I would like to believe that there is still something good about this holiday. Perhaps it has become a tad…more materialistic," Ice-hued orbs could not help but gaze upon the decorations hanging about with a guilty gleam, "But the underlying emotions still exist!"

The serpent snorted, "Look, every year, when this day came around, you were around here. In this shop, feeling all lovey-dovey, ooh-ooh-ahh; you didn't see what I saw. When I was out on Valentine's Day-" He shivered at just mentioning the damned day's name, "_I_ saw the real side of it. Shops were crowed with people blowing their weekly-sometimes once a month-pay, all for a stupid necklace some girl would eventually break or sell once they had broken up as a couple. I saw depressed people, all alone because they had no one to give a damn about them. I saw…well, lots of people out and about looking for…well, you know."

"…No, I don't."

"…Eh…" Ooh, how to explain this? "Well, there were lots of women, and lots of men, out on the streets and-"

"Ah…" The angel blinked, his face heating up a bit, "You mean-?"

"Yeah, they were looking for some…companionship. Of course-" Crowley paused, to deliver a fetching grin, "I was most happy to supply some."

Aziraphale was silent, but frowned at the other half of the duo's conduct.

"Anyway, I saw the real side. It's just a shoddy excuse to either get free stuff, or free, but not always, sex. And to indulge in Lust, or Greed, or Gluttony. Or Wrath, if you were some of the stilted girls that didn't get anything."

"And I suppose you had a hand in some of it, hmm?" The blonde one's tone was accusatory, but the demon did not snap, merely replying with,

"Some of it, yes. But actually, I would say the humans did nearly all of it themselves. Face it, Aziraphale. The holiday you used to know is dead. It's just…just a sham. There's no love. No actual emotion. It's instead everything Hell preaches."

Aziraphale sighed, "But…there have to be some…some people…I would like to believe that there are some people who still understand the greater meaning of this day."

Crowley snorted, "Keep dreaming, angel. It suits you."

"My dear, you…" The holy creature shook his head, blonde locks flapping a tad, "It still seems to me that you have great hatred for this holiday not just because the humans hate it, and because it has changed, but because you hate love."

"Well, yeah. It's taken you this long to figure it out? Demon, remember? Kind of comes with the job." Crowley frowned, his hands absently playing with the candy still flung about on the hard-wooden surface; suddenly, the energy to have fun with the delicate sweets had evaporated.

"…You used to be completely different, you know. About it."

Crowley remained silent, changing the saying 'Wink wink' to…something the kiddies should not gaze upon.

Using said muteness as a cue, Aziraphale made sure his body was as close to the other's as possible, leaning over the counter to be able to look directly into the demon's orbs, if necessary. They were close, close enough to where if Crowley leaned further as well, he would have been able to breathe upon the Heavenly entity.

Now, Aziraphale knew risks; being on the Earth for so long, and being on it with Crowley had taught him that valuable lesson. Words could anger the demon just as much as actions, and in this case, the angel knew what could occur if the other went off into a not-so-righteous tantrum.

But, he internally took in a breath, hoping he would not have to explain an incident of discorporation to those Above, and spoke,

"My dear, really, I am serious about this. Do you not remember how…how it once was?"

"Of course I do." The serpent would not say that he recalled it fainter and fainter some days, and yet, when his presence was accompanied by the other entity's own, he could remember It quiet clearly.

"But you still…Well…"

"Do you even realize what Falling _does_ to an angel, Angel? Hmm?" Yellow-eyes did not even try to look at the other, only staying locked onto the still-present candy, slithering fingers touching them, changing them, but also just moving them about, fidgeting with the sweets from Hell.

"Well, no-"

"We can barely remember those emotions; it's as if they're ripped from our souls, and taken away. We can't feel them, just see them. But we don't long for them either. Every day, nothing in those categories affects us; you would call it numbness, we would call it normal life. Love just…means nothing to us."

"But it used to. You used to know so much about love, Crowley." Aziraphale countered, but the one with the dark tresses just let out a wry chuckle,

"That was a long time ago; and didn't you just hear me? None of it is left in me. It's taken from you when you Fall."

"…I really beg to differ, my friend."

A snort, "Oh? And really, how could you-"

After six thousand years, Crowley never suspected much would surprise him at this point; but when a soft hand touched his chin, and gripped it firmer than what would be suspected of an angel, the demon found his eyes forced up from their old position, and locking with crystal-clear cerulean ones.

"Do you remember that love comes in different forms, Crowley?"

"…"

"Well?"

"Maybe I don't want to respond, because I see where you're going with this?"

"Oh, and pray tell, where am I going with 'this'?"

"You're going to say something along the lines of, oh, 'Friendship is a form of love, Crowley' or 'Oh, Crowley, you ran into a fire to try to save me, which can be classified as love!'" The man with the attire of the pinstripe suit and blood-red shirt underneath was indeed very practiced in the art of imitating feminine voices just to irk his companion, "Bah, Aziraphale, lay off it. Really."

With a rough tug, Crowley freed his head from the other's grip, a snarl on his face; this topic had to be dropped immediately. It was downright repulsive, annoying, and it brought up bad memories for the demon.

Not just memories of Heaven, no; of thoughts. Of wishes. Of ideas that should not exist, despite the snake trying to make them no longer real. He would not whisper aloud, fearing prying ears, of the lusty nights he had awoken with sticky sheets, his lean body drenched in sweat, serpent-eyes wide not just in terror that had never even thought to occur in his mind before, but of surprise; ever since the "AA" (5) from the summer before, Aziraphale and the demon had spent much time together, relishing in multiple facts: that they had not been punished (Crowley was still holding his breath, waiting for something, but do not tell his friend that), and that they were still here together.

Each of them had spoken aloud of how they had believed that their Arrangement had been exposed, and the duo would be separated with rapid speed, never to see each other again.

Well, due to Crowley's joy, and yet dismay, the exact opposite had occurred; it was as if their friendship was being _encouraged_, with Hell giving him frequent jobs in this dingy little town every so often, and him never being told to leave, and with Aziraphale having to redeem nearby churches, pastors, and the denizens of the land. And when there was not a job, it was as if there was no reason to leave; commendations or praise came easily here, and everything was just…here.

Somehow, someway, someone knew Crowley's tension, his anxiety; did they know of the dreams about Aziraphale?

The closeness; the world-almost-ending…Yes, yes, those things had caused all of this to occur. Sure, he would admit it, the demon had been lusting after his not-really-an-ally for quite some time, which in itself was only a half-shock. Demons lusted after angels often enough, it was customary, in a sort, but _Aziraphale_?

If Hastur ever found out that it was that angel that had Crowley touching himself in the dead of night, burying his face in his feathery (ironic, no?) pillow, wishing to smell the angel (6) himself, Hell would never let him live it down…

This could _not_ just be base lust, and that thought sent chills up a snaky spine so powerfully, and so often, Crowley wanted to scream half the time, and rip out his lovely hair.

He had stupidly reminded himself about that whole fire incident, when all he could think about was the angel burning up, choking on smoke (despite the need not to breath, but knowing the angel, he would have been so comatose and shell-shocked, he _would _have breathed). Watching as his precious tomes and treasures died away like a giant pyre…Crying out for help. Oh, those had been the demon's thoughts that night, and he could never take them back, and, to the opposite of his supposed-nature, he did not regret them.

But, why did they have to turn into _this_?

It could _not_ be love. It was nothing of the sort. He could not admit to being in a friendly relationship with this other entity in a public way, but in private, he had told Aziraphale they were friends-to an extent.

…_Sure. Extent. Nice word, very handy in this situation. _

This plague of "is it or isn't it?" had been bothering Crowley for weeks now, and it was wearing at his blackened heart, making him tired, cranky, and wishing for a solution. And all this talk of this "oh-so-special" day just made it all the worse.

Being plagued with worry, and possibly denial, was never fun; and the serpent from Eden could attest to that.

Oh, and it did not help that the next heart he picked up said two words that made slitted eyes widen and a mouth drop open agape to a slight extent:

_Love him. _

Was this some kind of sick joke? Was that blasted Peter watching this conversation (Oh, what a thought!) and playing _jokes_?

Either that, or there was a candy factory in….London that needed to explode. Or vanish. Right about now. (7)

"Crowley, dear, you're pale…" Aziraphale had not gotten angry at the other's snappishness, but when did he ever get angry? Instead, that concerned aura was emanating from the angel once more, and all Crowley could do was shake his head as a response.

"I'm fine." That heart slid to the floor as discreetly as possible, thank you very much!

"Are you sure…?"

_Sure. Yes, of course I'm sure…  
_  
It should be stated that the serpent's internal voice could be just as sarcastic as his external one, so there was no love lost here whatsoever.

"Yeah. 'Course."

Continuing to stare at him for some moments, Aziraphale only stopped when the other gave no inclination of lying-on the outside of course-and he turned his eyes away with a sigh; if the demon was so inclined to believe that the angel could not tell a lie from the truth by now…Well, there were some issues there, yes?

"Crowley, I did not mean to…upset you. I was only stating facts."

"Facts _you_ are inclined to believe, you know. Others, well…"

Aziraphale nodded without a word, taking his cocoa in his hand once more, sipping it as he backed off, and rightfully so; he did not speak even when his mind was able to occupy itself with the shelves filled to the brim of what could be called a fire-hazard.

The muteness annoyed the demon, but he was far from surprised; the duo had stumbled onto a 'forbidden topic', in a way, and now the awkwardness was stronger than vines of ivy.

Bored golden-eyes trailed over the remaining candy, but Crowley felt little strength left to have more fun with them. And it was not as if Aziraphale was making an effort to speak! Why, he should, should he not?

….Alright, so this sort of thinking was just filled to the brim with excuses. The serpent knew he should try to do something, but what could he say? Actually stating what was on his mind was out of the question, so what was there that he could do…?

It should be obvious at this point that Crowley was not great at making awkward situations, or bad situations, better; in fact, the whole 'demon job' came with the perk of making them worse, so…

"Mm, Aziraphale? I actually think I found a good replacement for this saying. Why don't you take a look?" He held up the tempting piece of candy, and the angel eyed it warily. Trust was an odd feeling between the duo; half the time it existed, while the other fifty percent of the time, it evaporated like glorious steam. The blonde figured he should give the demon the benefit of the doubt this once…

"AH." Peering at the words, Aziraphale felt immensely…well, uncomfortable was one way to put it, and his ruby-red face showed it clearly, "Crowley!"

"What? Too blunt?"

"…Do not tell me you are propositioning me…" There was disgust the size of a boulder echoing in the room, coming directly from the angel in tweed and tartan.

The snake snorted sinfully, "What? You're kidding, right? Besides. The words would be completely _different_. You know…not 'me', but 'you', as in 'I'm going to fu-'"

"Just…just change it to something else, that's completely crude! And distasteful!"

"So…that should be changed to…'duck'-OH, no, no-'Suck'! That is a much better choice, don't you think, Angel?" Crowley was downright giddy, the angel fell so easily for his teasing.

"Crowley…"

"You know, you're really not all that much fun sometimes…"

Aziraphale just rolled his eyes, "I'm not the one being lewd."

"Again, I say it's part of my job. Shouldn't you know that by now?"

"Yes. I do. But it does not mean I have to like it." His nose was scrunched up disdainfully, and the angel sat himself down upon the nearest cushion-containing chair, a plaid fabric of greens and red coating it.

"See, this is what annoys me so much about your kind. You never find humor in anything. Or if you do, it's something so…so out there, that any sane person would just give you a blank look and wonder what realm you were from!"

Aziraphale gave him a steely look, "Well, like how you just stated, should you not know my sense of humor by now?"

Crowley hated that, that the angel was actually getting smart and was able to now combat his blunt, snarky remarks.

"Oh, aren't you original…"

"This is coming from the…the demon that finds humor in changing treats that are, one, not his, and two, are now mocking a sacred holiday to many! You are not the first demon to do so, and you are not the last, so do not act like you are!"

"And you think you're the first angel to get all gaga over this stupid day?" The serpent had...er..._not_ calmly walked over to the seated one, and now a stare-down had begun, each entity having his arms crossed, a snarl on the demon's mouth, a frown blended with a pout on the other's.

"No, I know I am not. And I never claimed to be. But at least I don't ruin days for other people, now do I?"

"I would say you're running my day, but I'm afraid you would accuse me of being 'unoriginal' again." That remark concerning Crowley's creativity had truly stung; his pride was the size of Vesuvius, and it would eventually erupt into Wrath if challenged enough.

"I can't believe you." Aziraphale just shook his head, placing his mug on the oak table to his left, and picked up the old book seated there, turning over the leather cover; reading, yes, that would distract the angel from that steely glare, his supposed-friend's dark aura that seemed to be ready and able to strangle Aziraphale.

"Oh, so now you're going to ignore me?"

"Quite so, my dear. Your temper is not needed by myself today, and I think you are being irrational. You should just…calm down. That is what I am doing."

"Calming down so you don't say anything worse?"

"Indeed."

"Psh. If it is any consolation to you, I can't believe _you_ right about now."

"…" The fair-haired man remained mute, turning the pages slowly, trying to neither look despondent nor hurt.

"You just…go around thinking that love is everywhere, don't you? I think, out of all the stupid statements you've said today, that really takes the cake."

When the angel deigned to not create a rebuttal, Crowley continued his rant,

"It does not exist everywhere, Angel. And…And one day you'll realize it. Real love, it's dead. All that's left is lust, deadly poison, anger, and wrath. You're just…just a hopeless and stupidly hopeful sod!"

"And let me guess. You're now going to say that it far from exists in you?" Clear blue eyes, with hints of age and gray hue, collided with Crowley's psyche, and he froze long enough for Aziraphale to say more, "Even though you used to be just like me. Maybe your personality was the same, to an extent, but you cared. You had hope. You had love, and compassion. You may not have known me, but I heard much about you, my dear."

The serpent almost wanted to ask about what the other had heard, but he instead chose to hiss in anger, and turn his face away.

"And you still think it's all there? That all my emotions are still there? That I am still _capable_ of them? I told you already, Falling, it just-"

But he stopped himself; a statement had shot into his mind, be it due to Heavenly or Hellish powers, Crowley did not know. And he dared not believe that Aziraphale himself had sent such a thought; but, despite its origins, it rang like a gong, and struck multiple chords:

_Whom are you trying to fool…? _

With that, the demon stalked off, the anger clearly on his face; the door slammed loud and proud, and for a moment, Aziraphale fretted it would just fall right off its hinges.

But it failed not, for it would dare not; and Aziraphale only sighed, muttering something about a migraine and Crowley's foolish anger…

* * *

Really, honestly, he had not drunk that much; Crowley would be sure to attest to that. Sure, he had cleaned out the sherry…and the aged Italian wine that had settled in his various cupboards (many years, many places, and many time periods, may I remind you)…and maybe a beer or two…

Surely, he was not that drunk; just a little tipsy. Yes, tipsy.

Well, he was tipsy enough to think that traveling in a drunken stupor to say more angry words, words that had been seething in his brain since that early afternoon, to Aziraphale was a good idea; and by traveling, his mind said, it meant flying. Unfurling feathery plumage, and flying about, hitting a sign…or five.

Ah, well, at least scaring the kiddies out and about at this time of the night was joyous fun.

Unfortunately, the serpent's aim was off when it came to landing gracefully; he had been too high in the air, and too far to the left, and had collided with a window of the shop next door.

With a snarl, Crowley made a mental note to do something dreadfully awful to the building later on, when he actually had free time. Too bad his mind was so hazy and bubbly, and drunk on wine and anger, that he would remember not to do whatever smiting he wished to, and the building would go unharmed (8).

Getting on solid ground, Crowley jiggled the doorknob, only to find that Aziraphale had closed the shop for the night; time, apparently, was not on the forefront of the snake's mind, or he would have realized that it was appropriate for shops to be closed at a half past three in the morning.

Hissing and swearing, Crowley decided to break in; why not? It was not as if he would get punished for it, so with a supernatural snap (and twist, and flip) of the wrist and fingers, the door unlocked itself, and the man with the raven locks and serpentine eyes strolled, with not much elegance, into the shop.

With no lights, there was no shine upon his still out-in-the-open midnight wings. Normally, Crowley was not one for playing into the traditional clichéd minds of the mortals; his wings were normally red, his favorite hue, but his mind, in such a stupor of emotion and drunkenness, had morphed them into this black shade. He did not necessarily mind, it was just irksome.

And whereas he normally found many of the angel's quirks irksome, he was grateful for his obsessions when it came to organization and cleanliness. Not a book tripped him up, making him crash to the floor- but his own drunken feet were capable of that alone.

"Agh!" He said other words, curses to…Above, Below, and probably that damn Aziraphale as well.

Crowley had been cursing Aziraphale often, recently, so that last fact was no surprise.

There was a lone light, the snake discovered, down in that back room, where Aziraphale kept his most precious books, and the bed he never lowered himself to use. With some abilities, the angered entity managed to make his way to the doorway, and was instantly bombarded with the sight of the angel seated upon the bed, a look of abashed shock upon a semi-pudgy face, a hand holding a sheet of prices that was used for the bookshop.

"…C-Crowley?" Aziraphale's comfort had been disturbed, and it showed; he had been resting in his nightshirt, enjoying the peace and quiet, and now his mouth was hanging open, eyes blinking, mind trying to form more than a one-worded sentence.

"…Angel." The snake was pouting, wobbling on his feet in the doorway, a lean appendage reaching out to grasp it.

"My dear…" The Heavenly one had not missed the slur of his nickname; nor did he miss the slightly flushed face, the tousled black tresses that touched a demonic neck, and the swaying and tired look in still-masked eyes, with skewed glasses, of course, "Are you…drunk?"

"…Maybe." Crowley was known for becoming childish when he was angry and drunk at the same time, and the demon tried to cross his arms, but nearly fell to the ground, and instead put both hands on the door frame, "I've got…sssstuff to say to you."

Aziraphale did not respond, giving a sympathetic smile with his characteristic 'I'm disappointed' sigh.

"I…I think…!"

"…Crowley, you are out of your bloody mind. Come and sit down before you hurt yourself."

"Not until I say what I have to say firssst!"

"Well, then?"

"…I…I think…I think I forgot…I don't know…" The demon shrugged; his mind's anger had just…it had been boiling for a long while, back at his flat, and even on the flight over here, but….now it just…had dissipated.

"You cannot remember what you were going to say? And my dear, you _flew_ over here?" Aziraphale's eyes had just caught the wings that were still visible, and an internal groan proceeded to take place.

Crowley nodded, "I…I don't know why, I just…I wasss mad, but…"

"Too much alcohol, Crowley? You know that it does that to your memory sometimes…"

The other shook his head, "No…I…remember that…I felt…that you were judging me…And…that well…You're just too optimissssstic about…"

Aziraphale motioned with his hands, "Come over to the bed before you fall on your face, and we can talk further?"

Crowley finally consented, and he let go of the wooden entranceway, taking careful steps over to his companion; unfortunately, for all his carefulness, the serpent still managed to trip over his own feet, but, at least this time…

"Got you." Aziraphale had been there to catch him, reaching over the edge of the bed, strong hands going around a demonic waist that many over the centuries had found all-too-tempting.

"…Thanks."

"My dear, how did you even manage to fly over here?" The angel could not help the chuckle in his voice as he heaved his Adversary onto the bed, the demon, at first, making a noise of defiance, only complying once he saw that this was the best way to get to his destination.

"Dunno. Luck, I guess."

Aziraphale sighed, both hands finding places on the demon's upper arms to hold, "What am I going to do with you? Hmm?"

Crowley managed a sheepish grin with his shrug, "Again. Dunno."

Silence permeated the air as neither could look the other in the eye, Aziraphale still holding his companion's arms, as Crowley sat on his knees, gazing with a heavy conscience around the room, wanting to not bring up what had been on his mind all day, all afternoon, and even now at the angel's closeness.

Aziraphale did not wish to speak either, for he had been in a dithering state since the sun had been out, and instead just settled for being able to hold some part of the entity he had known since Eden, without the threat of massive discorporation being involved.

But neither had expected what occurred next, especially Crowley, who with a sigh wiggled in the angel's grasp, and stretched out his body, lying down, head resting upon Aziraphale's shoulder, who had decided to rest once more against the headboard of the bed.

"…Feel better?"

"Yeah…" Crowley did not know why he had moved, only that he had felt the sheer desire and will to do so. A hand curled around the ragged (damn tartan!) nightshirt, almost out of fear that Aziraphale would push him away, when he had every right to do so.

"Good." But, if the serpent could recall their previous debacles and arguments, he would recall that Aziraphale never held a grudge; there was something about the demon that made forgiveness easy, even if he did not deserve it.

But Aziraphale just, of his own subconscious mind, placed his arms around the demon laying on top of him with a sigh, hoping that he was hiding a smile well enough.

"…Gotta say, 'Zzzzira, you're pretty warm."

"Really? Are you enjoying it? I must say, it was cold out there, so you probably do need it…"

Crowley nodded as a reply, and the angel let out what could only be called a giggle.

"One could even state that you _love_ it, yes? Love laying on me, love the warmth, love the-?"

He was cut off with a jerky movement; Crowley had lifted his head and upper body to stare down at the angel in utter shock.

He was not shocked that this subject was being brought up again, no; the snake was shocked at the fact that…Aziraphale had _beaten_ him, beaten him because what he was stating nonchalantly was _true_…

"My dear, I…I was just joking…?" It was true, the angel had not meant it to be a serious remark, more of a…'Oh, let's make a truce already' sort of joke. But here was his friend, staring him down, a look of…of some foreign emotion plastered all around the Hellish one's face.

"…Y-Yeah…"

But Crowley failed to move.

Mainly because denial was finally moving out of his head, out of the black-pit he called a soul and the midnight hole he called a heart, and was leaving the building.

Because Aziraphale was _right_ (Ouch, that statement burned him like a Bible to the forehead).

This…this comfort was what he relished in, what he lived in. Being at peace with the angel by his side; whether it was drinking together, delivering bread to those blasted, noisy ducks, laughing together, causing chaos (or not), saving souls (or not)…there was always this warmth that Aziraphale carried with him that actually made him smile like an idiot on the inside.

Because that warmth was so…so lovable. And it brought back those feelings, it was as if, unconsciously, Aziraphale was redeeming him, and the demon was just _wallowing_ in it.

They had always been rivals, it was their supposed, ineffable 'destiny' or whatever one wished to call it; they had been Adversaries since four-thousand and four B.C. That was obvious.

When the Arrangement had been rightfully made afterwards, the duo knew that they had gotten to the level of friendship. Well, the entities hypothesized it began then, neither was really sure. It had just happened.

'Just happened'…Crowley wondered if he could use that excuse for other things.

'Oh, did I just touch your hair? Just happened, so sorry.'

'Oh, me smiling like this? Just happened, and we both know you don't mind in the least bit, Angel. And we could possibly blame the alcohol?'

But…Crowley knew he could not use that statement when he lowered his head down, eyes locked directly with the angel's, who found it all too difficult to look away.

"…Should I ask-"

"You ask about a lot of things, shouldn't you just stop asking for once?" Came the replying whisper, thankfully not slurring words, as Crowley was trying to will the alcohol out of his system.

"…Maybe I should, I don't…really…know…"

He did not have time to ask, or to ponder, or to question; Crowley's lips had already hit his with full-frontal force, like that of a Crusader, or a hurricane, or a mixture of both.

They both could recall the memories; starting all the way from Eden and spanning up until this point in time. Each rang clear, each rang proud. From the times they had actually fought on opposite sides in all sorts of various religious wars, to when mere arguments had turned into someone being sent either Above or Below, having to explain what occurred to their body…

But as Crowley softly moved his lips, trying to maintain sanity and slowness, goodness filled Aziraphale's brain, and he could recall all those wonderful moments when his Enemy had turned Friend; when Crowley had leaned on him when they had drunk too much, when they actually discussed something logical, something intellectual, something they both could relate to, despite being on opposite sides.

The 'angelic' noise that escaped his throat was Heavenly and Holy, but on a different sort of level, and it was enough to snap Crowley out of the trance he had put himself into; lips parted with a small, wet sound, and faces put more distance between one another, neither speaking, both staring.

"…Well…"

"Well, what?"

Aziraphale just shrugged casually, "Just…well, I suppose."

A demonic frown appeared, "That's it? I…I kissss you, and that's all I get?"

"Were you expecting more?" A cheeky smile! He _dared_ to give Crowley a cheeky smile?!

"W-Well…Y-Yes!"

"My, aren't you cocky…" That chuckle at the end proved that those choices of words had been on purpose, damn that angel and his becoming wise-to-Earthen-ways!

"…You're impossible. Simply impossible."

"Why, thank you my dear. I do learn from the best, yes?"

The snake growled under his hissy and heated breath, "Trying to compliment me? Or are you being smart?"

"I suppose, Crowley, dear, it is both." Aziraphale raised himself up on his elbows, thereby raising his face even closer to the demon's, "After all, we have known each other for quite some time, should we not expect personality traits to be traded? And…"

"And, what?" He tried to ignore the closeness, along with a glint in angelic eyes that could be nothing but rapturous joy, excitement…The angel _had_ enjoyed that kiss, had he not…? He had not pushed Crowley away, so…

"And one could also assume that we have…grown quite close."

"What're you getting at?"

"Oh, surely, it must be clear? Even to your… still-somewhat inebriated state."

Of course it was clear; it was just to the point that Crowley really wanted to stop admitting that any of this was actually occurring, since the possibilities had always seemed so nil.

"Crowley, dear, do you remember our discussion from many years, nearly eons ago? About the one where I told you specifically angels were sexless?"

"Yeah…but you added that they could be if they tried…So what's your point?"

"Well, dear…" Aziraphale unleashed a smile that was out of his normal role-it was downright snaky, "I never stated that angels could be…_loveless_."

It was obvious as to what the fair-head was hinting at, but the snake chose to remain blank-faced at the admission to such a statement; coming from Aziraphale, it was only a half-surprise. He was all about Love (but not 'free' love, of course), Kindness, Charity, Friendship. But the fact that Aziraphale was telling that to Crowley was just…well, unexpected. And it did nothing to ease the demon's own denial and ideas of dropping the subject; those little thoughts in his mind just laughed at his trying, and it was as if they had already called a realtor or two, and were moving out, little miniature moving trucks speeding off into the subconscious distance.

"Crowley?" The angel prompted him after moments of silent stares, "Oh, dear, I…I crossed a line there, did I not?"

"…Demons aren't…aren't sssssupposed to care, you know…" Aziraphale's other half murmured, eyes glued to the bed's sheets.

"No, I suppose not-"

"Demons…Demons aren't supposssssed to…to…well, _that_."

"Which is why I said I crossed a line…Even if it is true, I should have just kept my mouth shut." Aziraphale was indeed frazzled, a hand twitchingly coming up to scratch his scalp.

But he had little time to commit any sort of action.

Wrists were pinned with rapid, serpentine speed, an angelic back fully pressed against the mattress underneath, Crowley looming over him with a look of internal admission, of surrender; it did not match with the cocky and sublime grin, but his face showed the truth.

He was giving in.

"Do you really think you are the only one to have crossed a line? I think I did that first, Angel."

"Ah…W-Well, one could say we both crossed lines-"

"But I did it first."

Aziraphale pouted, "What are you getting at, dear boy?" If the demon was going to get snippy now…

A curt laugh came from above, "I suppose what I am getting at is…is well, we might as well cross the rest of the lines, right? I crossed one, you crossed one- now, it's fair. So, why don't we just go for the rest of them, hmm?"

It would have been a decently cordial and innocent question, if not for the fact that the demon was nuzzling his face into an angelic neck, that held a wafting scent that, Crowley would not admit unless he was being tortured to an extreme degree, sent lightning bolts down unto his loins.

"Ah…I-"

He really had no time to answer; the plundering of his mouth, the kidnapping of his lips, oh! It was too much for Aziraphale, and whatever words he was going to speak aloud died on the vine. Any thoughts that had been accompanying them vanished with a magical poof when the raven-locked man slithered that slim body on top of his own, and the full-body contact combined with the wet, delectable kiss made Aziraphale groan, a sound he had once believed angels were never, ever supposed to make.

"Heh. So, are you 'really trying', 'Zira?" Crowley murmured as his lips broke away to the other's despondency, the demon choosing to unleash his snake tongue onto a soft cheek, ravishing it, and unable to contain his meaner nature, for he left a few nips here and there.

"Oh, shut up…This…This is not the time for your inane sense of humor-"

"That you apparently…well…_love_?"

Aziraphale did not know what he blushing more from: the demon's statement, or the fact that a demonic hand had swam up his nightshirt, and that hand was caressing light skin, dancing along hiplines like a gavotte, causing Aziraphale's eyes to focus out; he had never been touched before, it was not in his nature. He would also not admit to Crowley-at least not for some time- that he had been thinking about these actions much ahead of time.

Oh, he had always cared for the demon; friendship had just…blossomed into this. The angel was not really that surprised, for when the end of the world had seemed imminent, the idea that he would no longer be a resident of Earth paled in comparison to how much he fretted over how he and Crowley would be permanently separated.

His books were important yes, and so was his shop, along with the other Earthly habits he really should not have been indulging in; but this…this Ally, curse it all! He had been the one who had completely 'corrupted' the angel.

Ah, this…this sweet, sweet poison…

There was no other way to describe the feelings that had been boiling in the angel for the longest time-he had tried to shoo them away in his own mannerly way, but Crowley, oh da-curse him, he kept walking in with that nonchalant smile, that breezy mood that always kept Aziraphale on his toes. His deep laugh, how he had always helped the angel out of the Ritz, how he had…actually changed the angel's views with demons, and the world…

"W-Well, perhaps I am trying…"

"Of course you are," Crowley lifted his upper body, and he appeared to be downright stalking the other, as if the angel was a lion's prey in sweltering Africa, "You always try at everything you do, don't you?"

"I…could say the same about you, you know."

"Heh. Are you flattering me to get somewhere?"

Aziraphale leaned into the hand that had, it seemed, magically appeared in his tresses; it was actually a gentle caress, unexpected considering whom the other party was. The entity sighed, a dazed smiling dancing across his face, combating against the smirk from the snake.

Hmm, get somewhere…No, Aziraphale could just tell where the two were heading at this point, and that they would both be receiving something. But…in the angel's mind, something was just not quite right…; what was missing? Here was a charming, handsome, albeit demon, kissing him, straining with pleasure, for it was evident Crowley wanted to move onto the 'ravishing' step, but was holding himself back, and yet…Aziraphale knew something was not quite right.

_Oh. Of course. _

It only took the angel a minute of clear thinking (9), and Aziraphale realized what was bothering him; moving his body so he leaned up on his elbows, one hand slowly reached to Crowley's face, and without a spoken word, the blonde removed the sunglasses that had always hung on a perfectly-chiseled face, placing them lightly on the nightstand.

"..." The serpent made no motion to speak or object; in all honesty, Crowley saw that move coming minutes ago, for it just seemed like an action Aziraphale would do. But two could play at this game, and with a smirk, he in turned removed the spectacles that Aziraphale could not help but wear, the angel always stating they went with his 'image'.

"You don't even need these, Angel." The dark-locked one whispered in a holy ear, choosing to bite at the lobe not a second after the last syllable had left his lips.

"Ah…I…I like them-"

"Mm, that's your excuse for everything, it seems. For your wardrobe, for your books, for your actions, for-"

"For you?" A breathy whisper that sent shocks all through a demonic body, and Crowley unconsciously grounded his hips into the body beneath him, causing Aziraphale to unleash a choked moan.

"Yeah…for me…Even if you did not use _that_ specific word, I guess you could say-"

He did not say much, really; Aziraphale had gotten bolder (or he just wanted to shut the snake up, which was a common occurrence, no?) and had titled his head just to the left, silencing lips that commonly spoke of delicacies that could get one Felled.

Neither cared if someone Above or Below would be watching; minds had shut down, a miracle on the angel's part, definitely, and bodies were moving in synch. Crowley's other hand, still on heavenly skin, touched the worn fabric covering the body, and made it vanish with just a short will of his mind. Aziraphale gasped as the cold air hit his skin- but the gasp transformed into one of pleasurable shock, when that infamously dirty tongue of Crowley licked a classic serpentine trail up it, stopping once Aziraphale's nipples were in his sights, and one was plundered on the spot, taken into a warm mouth, dancing with a tongue, and being flicked in a rhythmic way.

Crowley did not even need to guess- he knew he had been given the esteem of being Aziraphale's first…well, lover. Probably only lover, knowing how the angel was, and how all angels were.

Great, there was no pressure, was it not?

But although Aziraphale was 'inexperienced', he was not naïve. This was apparent when, after lifting his head to gaze upon a flushed and panting angel, Aziraphale's hand reached out and grabbed a still-present, but loosened, tie and brought their lips together once more, letting Crowley's tongue invade his orifice, and allowing demonic teeth (were those semi-sharp fangs?) to bite his lip.

The demon was not the only being that could wish away clothing, and when a plump, soft hand landed on his back, Crowley instantly felt his upper body become bare; but unlike how he had wished Aziraphale's clothing to the bookstore's counter, the angel was kinder, once again, and only made the clothes plop onto the floor of the backroom.

"Someone'ssssss bold, aren't they?"

"Whatever…j-judgments you had of my sexual experience are proven wrong, are they not?"

"Possssibly…"

"Do you always hiss when you're….er-"

Crowley smirked, "Maybe. But here, I was thinking that it's just you."

"You do hiss a lot when…when you're around me…" Pointy teeth were nibbling on Aziraphale's torso as if he were one of the candies from the jar downstairs.

"Mmhmm…'Cause you're so…well."

The angel had to laugh, "Yes, I know-OH."

How Crowley's head had moved so fast, he could not say; but there was a nose nuzzling into his nether regions, and it felt so good…It was not a surprise that the demon had already moved from chest to groin, his attention span could be that of a gnat, unless he tried hard enough.

"'Zira, I can…sssmell it. Your arousal…"

Aziraphale merely moaned at the heated talk, his back arching like a church's own entranceway as the demon lightly licked the area through the boxers the angel still had on. The garment was wished away with the speed of light, and there was an angel, fully nude, and Crowley could not hide the grin, nor cover the snarl of lust.

He looked as if he belonged on a painting, some holy relic that would be dusted off in a chapel. The only thing that was missing was…

With a whoosh, and a flick of a tongue on an engorged member, white wings appeared from behind Aziraphale, and Crowley could not help but chuckle. The moan from the pinned angel did nothing to deter his efforts, either.

"Mmm…" His tongue came out, like a whip, to lick the angel's wings, and Aziraphale shivered under the ministrations, "Would it surprise you if I told you that I've wanted to…well, lick these for the longest time?"

"No…" The blonde entity panted, "Coming from you? No…"

"Hah, I am going to take that as flattery…n-not some form of criticism…"

It became harder to speak as Aziraphale's scent invaded his cortexes, his senses on red-alert and bearing a heavy weight of passion and desire. Crowley was not sure how much longer he actually could last at this point, and he was not even fully unclothed.

Aziraphale must have remembered that last part, for a shaking appendage moved slowly, and it came to rest on Crowley's bum; when the demon hissed, it was not at the mild slap the angel employed upon him, but it was the cold air hitting his erection with sure-speed.

Whatever shock that had hit the snake transferred to his companion, for being fully exposed brought a brighter shade of red to the angel's face, and another dark laugh escaped Crowley's lips,

"Impressed, Angel?"

"…Perhaps…"

"Of course you are. Everyone else has been-"

Er…that probably was not the best thing to say.

"Oh? Everyone else?"

"Uh-"

Aziraphale's cold, blue gaze was penetrating, and yet, Crowley found it all too arousing.

" Are you ever going to tell me who the other people were?"

"Do I have to?"

"What do you think?"

"No?" Crowley's giant grin made the angel sigh, as if he was put out.

"…I suppose you really don't. It is not as if I am surprised, I always knew that, since you did talk about it once and a while, but…"

"The whole thing of talking about it during _this_ sort of…activity…shocked you?"

Aziraphale nodded, "Yes. You have bloody awful timing, my dear."

A sheepish grin, "I suppose I am…Did I, uh…ruin the mood?"

Blonde curls fluttered when a head was shaken, and Crowley noticed that two hands came to wrap around his neck possessively, "No. If you had, I would have kicked you out of my bed, would I not?"

"Heh. Like you would have the gall to do that-"

Another sweet kiss; the angel knew how to kiss, that was for sure, but the eons on Earth could most likely attest to that, and explain it. And when supple hands came to cup his face, Crowley felt as if he was melting, because demons cannot resist _everything_ that is holy.

Now the moment had arrived; they could not hold back any longer, their desires reaching their limits. After a few more teasing licks at Aziraphale's member, for watching the blessed angel writhe and moan in ecstasy was a drug in itself, Crowley heaved the angel up into a sitting position, pulling him closer, sitting the only-fairly chubby angel on his lap.

"Remember….it….doesn't have to really hurt…just will it, okay?" The snake was panting, a hand caressing the other entity's arse, fingers teasing his entrance, hoping to get the angel to relax, loosen his muscles and just breathe.

Aziraphale nodded, feeling Crowley lift him and press him onto his member; the immediate penetration stung, causing the angel to cry out, and hands seated upon a demon's shoulders shook and grasped the skin and muscle underneath hard.

"Easy…! Just…just relax. Relax…" Crowley murmured in his ear, not pushing Aziraphale down further, not until the angel had gotten used to the first touch.

Throwing his head back, Aziraphale took a deep breath and oh! There, there it was…he could will the pain away, erase it from his standing-on-end nerves, and wash away, like the ebbing tide…Thank Go-someone for this ability, or else Aziraphale guessed he would have slapped Crowley upside the head.

But no, the motions became fluid, and ecstatic, strong arms wrapped around Aziraphale in a what-could-have-been-deadly-to-a-mortal hold, and foreheads came together as Crowley bucked up into his new-found lover, a tongue darting out once and a while to lick sweet cheeks dotted with sweat beads.

Aziraphale's head felt elated, high; there was nothing to compare this event to, nothing at all! Crowley would kiss his lips sparsely, teasingly, while the angel's hands were flat on his Adversary's chest, ghosting over nipples just long enough to cause the demon to hiss in rapture, and in wanting.

"S-Sure you've…never done this before-Oh..._Aziraphale_…"

He was panting, right into golden curls, a hand traveling to the angel's exposed member, which was dripping sex fluid down itself at a fast, needy pace.

"Quite sure, my dear-AH!"

The world had melted away…It consisted of only their bodies, heated, crashing, thrashing in battle that neither had predicted, but both reveled in with extreme passion.

Wings of red, for Crowley had finally gotten to a state of sound mind and had changed them back to their favored state, and snowy white hues beat into the air, stirring up cooling air.

There was nothing left for them but each other; the world had always consisted of only them, and their Earthly pleasures, and now those pleasures looked dull and full of doldrums compared to one another.

This was a change, a change they had longed for so deeply, so secretly, and here it was.

"Crowley…"

His name being panted right in his ear so lusciously caused the demon to growl, and control was slipping; he was handling the angel's erection with faster pace, with fervor that he had rarely shown before, not even in his demonic duties. His bucking up was rapid, faster, and harder each time, and Aziraphale's voice was raising to higher and higher decibels with each passing moment.

This was what both of them had always wanted…

Each other.

Aziraphale kissed his face as they both neared the edge, and he whispered sacred words unto his obsidian-hued heart, and Crowley wondered if he could ever reply....

But that thought vanished as he came with a cry in his lover, hands scratching a back that had but one little blemish upon it (10), and sweating bodies crashed.

Crashed onto one another, Aziraphale spilling onto them both, while they clung to one another in sheer desire and fear…

Fear the other would run if one happened to let go…

* * *

Sleeping was…well, Crowley could have said it was a hobby of his, a pastime he partook in; so it was surprising when he found himself unable to drift off. Aziraphale had fallen asleep not twenty minutes after their fornication, and a sweating, slumbering angel was indeed an endearing sight to the demon, and he could not help smile as he stood in front of the bedroom window, a red robe draped over his lean body.

But his worries were caressing his body and mind now; Aziraphale _loved_ him…

Well, he had always known that the angel loved him in some way. That was evident enough, for Aziraphale was right about friendship being a type of romance and love.

But now…

Aziraphale had not just said it in a special way, he had shown it. By wanting him, desiring him, and giving in to Crowley.

And the angel had not even worried about what would happen to him; what if…what if Aziraphale _Fell_? Crowley would be devastated. Hell was not suited for his angel, the other entity would be pulling out his hair if he went Down There.

A cigarette appeared in his hands; the serpent would not tell Aziraphale, but he had taken up the habit of smoking, merely because it, well…it made him look good. And not needing to actually breathe did help too.

A small flame came from his fingers, lighting it, and with a slow drag, Crowley tried to clear his head.

What else worried him was the fact that he had not said that he loved Aziraphale.

He knew he did, that was not the problem, for denial was dead and gone; but what about the angel? Did he know it? And what of Hell? When they would find out about this…

A stirring motion interrupted Crowley's dithering, and golden-black eyes turned to see Aziraphale sitting up, a worried expression on his face,

"Crowley? Dear, what's wrong?"

'Dear'…Crowley would never admit it, but that pet-name always made him shiver not just with disgust, but with joy.

"Nothing…"

Aziraphale smiled, "I know something is on your mind, but if you won't tell me, that's fine."

"How do you know?"

"Your eyes give much away, my love. But please, come back to bed…It's…well, it's lonely in here without you."

Little did Aziraphale know, but the serpent had thought the same thing before, when Crowley had been alone in his own bed, a rare time indeed, wondering what it would be like to have Aziraphale in it, and how it was just…unfitting one person to be in a large bed by himself.

"Yeah…I can imagine it is."

The blonde entity smiled, and it turned into a grin when Crowley returned to his side, resting a dark head on a heavenly shoulder.

He was still worried, still fretting internally, but the warmth started to sooth his savage soul; Crowley did not know if he would ever say those three words to his partner, his friend, his lover…but he could show them.

He could show his love as proudly as he could; and maybe one day…his lips would move and…

Crowley drifted off as arms encircled him, and a sigh escaped his lips. There were some matters that could be dealt with in time, he knew that.

And although neither Heaven nor Hell would tell Crowley that he would, two months from now, take the angel in his arms and say those words, it was still destined to happen.

And although Crowley would receive a commendation for 'DEFLOWERING AN ANGEL, WOOT!', he would not let it go to his head, and he would far from let the angel, who would blush when the notice was revealed to him, go on being beet-read while clothed.

So no words were spoken for the rest of that night…a slumbering angel, who was to not be Felled, but instead reprimanded for a 'failed redemption attempt' and put on leave for five months, and a slumbering demon just slept away…

Enjoying the sweetest, and most holy, poison a body could experience in the human realm, or in this case, any realm…

Love…

* * *

(1) Revealing the identities would not only disgust Aziraphale, not just because of their massive number, but he probably knew some of the humans as well, knowing Crowley's luck.

(2) More like had a minute of omniscient predicting

(3) Crowley had gotten used to that glare; it had existed ever since Eden, and now the demon found it sort of cute-but he'd never say that.

(4) Which happened very, very, very often

(5) Crowley's fun, teasing name, standing for: "Almost Apocalypse"; he had even, one day, made the real AA (Alcoholics Anonymous), change their name to his own, that is, until Aziraphale found out, and made him change it back.

(6) Angels have a common scent, but since Aziraphale had been on Earth, his scent had changed; now, not just smells lavender and and lilies and soft fresh sheets filled Crowley's nostrils, but the smells of old books, glue, parchment, etc. It was enough to drive Crowley mad.

(7) And indeed it did; the newspapers would call it an 'interesting phenomenon', as the Charles and Charles Candy Factory would explode, candies flying everywhere for miles, some breaking windows, hitting people in the eye, and causing birds to fall out of the air. But when the remnants of the factory vanished, that lead to more speculation about people being possessed, or God deciding he hated candies that tasted like chalk.

(8) Until three weeks from that night, when he would run into it again, this time not that drunk, and would make sure the building was infested with rats and locus, putting the shop out for a very, very long time.

(9) Which took a _lot _of effort on the angel's part, sadly.

(10) Aziraphale had chosen a non-perfect body, unlike Crowley; there was a tiny mole on his back, and tiny enough to be adorable. Crowley would make note of it to kiss it often when they were in bed together in the future.

* * *

A/N: : D Hope you enjoyed this guys! If you did, I'll probably write another Good Omens story, full-length, in the future.

Enjoy, and happy Valentine's Day!


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